Chuckles come from all around as heads nod and lips smile. Though we love our ancient ways, Blood Dragons also adore modern cinema, especially if it has anything to do with battle, the more arcane the better.
“We have much to discuss in the coming hours, friends,” Jarl Jorg continues more soberly now. “My great-grandson has told me abouteverything that happened at the hidden city, and everything your Bloodbonded group did, creating the Soulstone. Ström’s told me of your aim to destroy the Soulstone and weaken the Black Dragon, crippling it from ever reaching its full strength so we have a chance at fighting it. What we need to do now is discuss our approach in the coming days. While our King cannot be present, as he is negotiating an increasingly tense situation with the Ice Dragons, not to mention the rebel Jarls, understand he is receiving a real-time magical transcript of our council, which he and I will discuss later tonight.”
As Jarl Jorg nods to an ornate magical recording contraption of silver and agate sitting beside him and humming gently as it whirls through with Blood Dragon runes, heads nod. The Jarl’s eagle-gaze roves us all now, impressing the import of what we do here.
Before returning to me.
“We have lost key territory, having had to abandon the hidden city up in Magnussen lands as we did two days ago,” the Jarl says with no bullshit now. “Though the gambit you managed with the Black Dragon was great, blasting that un-winnable battle apart so it didn’t end us all right then and there, we have lost precious ground in this war. Even though you and your drakes have the Soulstone now, Rikyava, our enemy, your sister Lithava, has the hidden city. Her forces secured it as we were blasted away; the Black Dragon itself guards that location now, and we cannot even get close. Our enemy has secured the cradle of the Black Dragon’s birth, to renew the ceremonies that will revive it to its fullest. What we must do now is discuss what happens next. And hope to all the gods we can find a solution that saves us.”
“We believe we have two options, my Jarl,” Ström says at once, as he pins his great-grandfather with his fierce green gaze. He cuddles close to me as he speaks, our sides and knees touching on the chaise, though he doesn’t put an arm around me in this war council. “The first involves the Soulstone, which we believe could be the key to stopping the real force behind the Black Dragon’s power—the Black Rift itself. As you all saw at that battle, there is an evil malevolence that lives beneath that brokencavern, which resonates with the Black Dragon. They are two of a kind; long ago, Hedda Anderlen created her creature by using not just donated Blood Dragon souls, but also that vile force, to give it life. It’s a place Rikyava discovered was ruined long ago by our ancient Ancestors. But that ruination gives that spot power. Unimaginable power—which it gives to the Black Dragon.”
“And which we believe we might be able to stop before it destroys the entire world through the creature,” I say now, knowing I need to fill the Jarl in on everything we’re up against.
“Explain,” Jarl Jorg says as he stares me down.
And I know it’s time to get into it, so we can figure all this out, at last.
8
RIPTIDE
As the Eriksson Jarl and Head of the True Black Dragon Knights stares me down, I know I have to come clean about what I know concerning the Black Rift. Because although every dragon here in this war council believes the Black Dragon is our worst enemy, only my drakes and I know there is something else we have to fight.
It puts me in a tough spot now, needing to convince this council that we mustnotfight the Black Dragon. Because every dragon here wants to battle our enemies.
My drakes and I are the only ones who know that would be our final undoing.
“Five thousand years ago,” I begin, as I search my brain for what I might say to them, “my Ancestor Hedda Anderlen, Head Shamaness to the Blood Dragon King, created the Black Dragon. She did it to stop a war that had already been raging for decades at that point: the War of Blood and Bone, in which the Blood Sages and Bone Mages were fighting each other to the death. That war pitted kin against kin and tore families and communities apart. Hedda’s own First Drake was killed, and thereuponshe retired to devise her masterwork—the Black Dragon, a creature that could end the war.”
“Or so she thought,” Jarl Jorg says astutely now, getting the full history, which I’m not sure even the True Knights recall anymore.
“The Black Dragon was once called the Dragon of All Souls because it can pull all souls inside itself using a special heart-killing curse.” Baldur jumps in now, digging into the story and knowing everything I know through our bond. “Once it is returned to full power through a series of three ceremonies Hedda devised to happen at the cradle of its birth, the cavern of the Black Rift, it cursesall soulsit kills. It pulls them into the belly of the beast, its own Void, rather than allowing them to return to the true Void.”
“Hedda’s final ceremony has something to do with uniting all those souls within the beast.” I pick up again as Baldur and I share a glance. “We don’t yet know how it works, but her goal was to killallBlood Dragons who were not Bloodwalkers, pulling them into the beast and holding them there, until she could work the final ceremony to unite all those souls in their Blood and Bone Magic. Making them Bloodwalkers, who could be born into the world once more.”
“Peopling all of Blood Dragondom with Bloodwalkers, only.” Mormor Annika’s eyebrows rise. “Incredible.”
“Hedda believed she was doing the will of her ancient kin,” Bjorn grumps now as he crosses his brawny arms, glowering around the room. “She was insane, believing she did but the will of Ancestors far older than her, who were once united in their Blood and Bone Magic. That they wished us to return to an age of former glory, where we were dominant among all dragons in the skies.”
“It was a time that existed.” Ström is thoughtful as he glances at his Jarl. “In our very ancient past, we were united in our Blood and Bone Magic. It made us frightfully strong?—”
“Until those who lived back then sought more power,” Mikkel says, giving the assembly a wicked glance. His dark eyes flash as he swirlshis whiskey, then downs it. He sets it aside on the table and leans forward, lacing his long fingers at his knees. “Sometimes, those who seek power do good things with it. Other times, it corrupts. For our ancient Ancestors, the power they had was not enough; they sought something even greater, to give them ultimate supremacy in the skies. It was their undoing. When they laid down all their knowledge in that ancient city and created that hidden cavern with their massive sigildry, they tainted it. We don’t have the complete story, but we know that their hubris made their ceremony go awry, much like Hedda herself. And they broke what they had tried to devise.”
“Creating something else instead—the Black Rift.” Baldur nods as he glances at Mikkel.
“Whether the energy of the Rift was already there and awakened because of what our ancient Ancestors attempted—or whether they created it—we still don’t know.” I take up the tale again. I know the Jarl needs to hear my especial insight on this matter. “What we do know, however, is that the energy of the Black Rift isdivisive. We thought at first it was just Bone Magic in its purest form, which tried to claim us as we did our ceremony to create the Soulstone. But what I’ve come to understand is that this energy is far more. Bone Magic isn’t evil; it’s beautiful and powerful, even though some use it for great evil, simply because of its power.”
Here, I see Jarl Jorg nod sagely, because he has Bone Magic. Like his great-grandson Ström, he knows all about it as he waves his hand for me to continue.
“What lives inside the Black Rift is truly evil.” I stare the Jarl down hard to impress my point. “Evil, powerful, relentless, it is adivisionenergy that permeates that place, just like the broken rift in the sigils themselves. An energy of kin against kin, it pushes us to fight; itwants usto devour each other. To kill each other off until there is nothing left. Nothing but death and darkness at the end of all things. Annihilation to its fullest.”
“Hedda’s secret name for her beast wasJormungandr,” Baldur saysquietly now. “We first thought we understood that name to mean that it ends the world when it curses everyone, pulling them all into the belly of the beast.”
“What we understand now,” I continue, as I nod at Baldur and he nods back, “is that somehow, because Hedda’s rituals involved the Black Rift to give her beast life, it became infected by the Rift’s true agenda to destroyeverything. There will be no resurrection of all our souls as Bloodwalkers at the end. Only unceasing battle, kin against kin until we all die. Until there isnothingleft—at all.”
“You’re saying Hedda Anderlen was duped in her ceremonies.” Svanhild Magnussen chimes in now, as a terrible look takes her wizened face, furious. “That she had an agenda with her beast… but that by using the cavern of the Black Rift, and the Rift’s energy to make it, she ended up carrying out the agenda of the Rift itself.”
“For the Rift powers the Black Dragon, and the Black Dragon feeds the Rift.” I nod now, as I stare Svanhild down, then Jarl Jorg. “It takes every soul, and consumes every dragon… I felt it at the battle. The Black Dragon is the untethered extension of the Black Rift itself. Though the Rift must stay in one place and take the souls that come to it, the Black Dragon can fly anywhere, devouring entire continents to feed energy back to the Rift. The first time, when the Rift was accidentally created, the divisive outcome was so bad it split our entire magic, one side from the other—Blood and Bone Magic from our original Bloodwalker power. What will happen when the Black Rift gets all the souls it wants through division, battle, and bloodshed, kin against kin, mother against brother, against father? What will happen this time, other than our very own annihilation?”
